


(Stay For a Little While) Inside

by agenthill



Series: And, In Sign of Ancient Love, Their Plighted Hands They Join [28]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-13 12:17:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11759694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agenthill/pseuds/agenthill
Summary: Always, she asks things with just a hint of breathlessness—as if, after everything she has seen and done, the world is still beautiful, is still capable of holding wonder.Or,Fareeha asks a question, and the answer makes Angela fall just a little more in love with her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this instead of writing my grocery list. fortunately i managed not to forget anything at the store after

“I read a poem once,” Fareeha begins, by way of explanation, “That said that the whole body replaces itself within the span of seven years—is it true?”

Always, she asks things with just a hint of breathlessness—as if, after everything she has seen and done, the world is still beautiful, is still capable of holding wonder.

Angela hates to burst her bubble.

“No,” says she, and considers her next words carefully, “It isn’t.  Your bones are only replaced at a rate of about ten percent per year, and your cardiomyocytes—the cells which make up the muscle of your heart—are only about half as fast as your bones.”

“Oh,” Fareeha says, looking just a bit disappointed, “That’s too bad; I thought, well, it’s been seven years since the original team disbanded.  It could’ve been symbolic, a new body untouched by the past.”  Then, she has another thought, and brightens, “It’s pretty cool that your bones and your heart take the longest to change, though.  Still poetic.”

Without another word, she returns to her book, unfazed by having her facts corrected, and Angela is left thinking about the poetry in the things not said.

Unlike Fareeha, she knows little of poetry, of the language of love and _wanting_. 

What she does know is this: she lied to Fareeha, if only by omission.  There are parts of the body which never renew; once changed, the central nervous system and lenses will stay that way forever.  The way one thinks and reacts, the way one sees—there will never be a version untouched by the ghosts of one’s past.

What she does know is this: Fareeha would not want to hear that; she is not Angela, pragmatic and often cold—she believes in change, in regrowth and renewal, in becoming something better.  Unlike Angela, she does not know how much of the past she will always carry within herself, whether she wishes to or not.

What she does know is this: for once, Angela is glad that not everything that is past can be overwritten, that always, come what will, some part of her will have been touched by Fareeha Amari.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this wasnt supposed to have a second chapter but w/e w/e
> 
> similar themes, different perspective

When Fareeha was younger, she went waterfall diving with friends.  The first jump went well, the second, the third, the fourth, but the fifth—the fifth was different, was beautiful when she was in the air, was the happiest she had ever been, eyes closed, wind tugging at her hair on the way down.

That joy ended the instant she tried to surface.  At the bottom of the creek, there was milfoil, and she, unaware, had been falling towards it all the way down.  It caught her, trapped her by the ankles, and the more she struggled, the tighter it held her in its grip, and the light of the surface began to look farther and dimmer, the waters deeper and murkier.  Nothing she could do might end it, might free her, and she became aware, all at once, that she might die here.

When they brought her to the surface, she was only half-alive, waterlogged lungs and clammy skin, but half-alive is enough, enough for rescue breathing and chest compressions, enough to cough and be ill in the reeds, and to shakily stand up and say she was fine, she was _fine,_ no need to call for help or her mother.

What she wanted was to pretend it never happened, even if the abrasions around her ankles would not let her, would remind her every time she moved, would open and bleed for weeks when she pointed her toes just wrong.

Now, when Angela looks at her ankles, notes the strange scars, just as she always does, and does not ask about the source, even if she wants to, Fareeha thinks of that day, thinks of drowning, how endless and deep and alone, of waking up with no water in her lungs though she thinks there should be, _there should be_ , and realizes that love is nothing like it.

What she feels instead is the jump, right before, eyes closed, unable—unwilling—to see what might lurk in the waters beneath, ignoring all danger just to have one perfect moment.

Her scars never bother her anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> also psa u should always go to the hospital and get checked out after a near drowning experience, even if fareeha is a dumbass and didnt. usually everything is fine but u never know.
> 
> and milfoil is a real plant thats invasive in canada and totally drowns ppl. the more u struggle the further down it pulls you. and it causes abrasions while it does it. bad shit

**Author's Note:**

> this is tiny i know... but ppl on tumblr liked it so i was like 'eh might as well post it'
> 
> the (factually inaccurate, often plagiarized) poem fareeha read is by brett elizabeth jenkins. she thought about it because she is currently reading gephyromania, a book of poems by tc tolbert. 
> 
> anyway, hope you enjoyed, even if it was a brief rambling!!


End file.
